


Dancing In Circles With Greeks ('Choreia')

by RZZMG



Series: Hermione x Draco stories [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Co-workers, Community: otterandferret, Curse-Breaking, Dating Others, Drama, Explicit Language, F/M, Greece, HP: EWE, HP: Epilogue What Epilogue?, Humor, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Partnership, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Sexual Content, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:58:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RZZMG/pseuds/RZZMG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Hogwarts, EWE. Hermione Granger decides she needs a break from her sexy, too-tempting Curse-Breaking partner, Draco Malfoy, before she crosses a line that can't be undone. She heads to Greece to be with her mother's side of the family for a much-needed holiday filled with dancing, shopping, good food, and a sea of dark-haired, dark-eyed Greek men all ready to show a girl a good time. Unfortunately, when Draco *coincidentally* appears in Greece at the same time for his holiday, and takes back up a prior love affair with Hermione's favourite cousin, Hermione's holiday plans -and her good intentions to keep her distance from her co-worker- are chucked right out the window. Jealousy, humour, and misunderstandings abound as these two stubborn partners dance around each other and their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vegetasbubble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegetasbubble/gifts).



> Choreia = (Greek: χορεία) is a circle dance (χορός σε κύκλο) accompanied by singing, in ancient Greece. 
> 
> Charon = Greek mythological figure known as "The Ferryman" who takes souls across the rivers of Hades (the mythological Underworld) to their final resting place. He appears as a sentient, moving skeleton wearing a long black cloak and hood, and carries a magical oar that he uses to propel his boat over the rivers of Hades, thus avoiding the curses in the water.
> 
> Phlegethon = One of four rivers in Hades. The river of Fire. 
> 
> Bouzoukia = Greek nightclubs that feature traditional folk music. 
> 
> Subtle homages are all over the place in this fanfic to the wonderful movie, “My Big, Fat Greek Wedding”. 
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta, L, and to the Mod for putting on this fic exchange!
> 
> Vegetasbubble, I hope you enjoy the story! I tried to incorporate as many of your prompts as possible.

**_5 June, 2006 (Monday)_ **

****

“You want me to do _what?”_

Hermione stared incredulously at her boss, and had a sudden, very fervent wish that she hadn’t bothered to get out of bed that morning.

Bill Weasley’s lips twitched with barely-repressed humour at her confrontational attitude, but he sat as immobile as ever in his high-backed, leather boss chair, his expression challenging her to fight him on this, his most recent edict.

Clearly, the man had flipped his last nut, if he thought for a second that she’d-

“You heard me perfectly well, Hermione. I want you to partner with Mister Malfoy, here,” he repeated, struggling to cover up his obvious desire to begin a round of lively chortling. “As of today, you’re going to be working in close quarters together as you train him up on the job. It’s my intention to keep the two of you joined at the hip permanently, in fact, as you both possess skills that complement the other rather nicely according to your pre-employment tests. So, play nice, you two. No murdering the other allowed.”

Right, she thought, it was official: Bill Weasley had finally taken the radical belly dive into the insanity pool, and he wasn’t getting out anytime soon.

She tried to form an eloquent appeal, to get the man to see reason, but the only thing that came out of her mouth was, “You have _got_ to be joking!”

Her boss merely stared back at her, unmoved by her scepticism.

“You’re _not_ joking,” she stated with growing dread, recognising the hard, icy glint that quickly replaced the amusement in Bill's startling blue eyes. The man was no longer finding hilarity in the situation - which meant he was deadly serious.

She deflated into a puddle of miserable goo right there in the middle of the office as the new assignment’s repercussions sunk in.

Draco Malfoy was to be her new work partner. Fan-fecking-tastic.

The idealistic part of her thought her attitude a very poor one, as she'd just been handed a phenomenal opportunity to make a new friend of a man she'd once despised more than itchy leg hair. _Buck up,_ her positive side beamed at her, _Malfoy is different now!_ Or so she'd read. According to _Witch Weekly,_ he'd completely thrown away his ridiculously held beliefs about blood status, and was often seen in the company of Muggle females (usually gorgeous models or actresses, but who was judging?), so perhaps he could be tolerable.

Yes, that was the ticket! She just needed to look at this unexpected circumstance as an occasion to start over, not a chance to reopen old wounds. In fact, she was betting that just as soon as they'd both settled to the idea of their new, collaborative relationship, Malfoy would transform, becoming the ideal Curse-Breaking partner. He'd be like Watson to her Holmes. Ant to her Dec...

The Bubble to her Squeak.

As she turned with a reluctant sigh to stare at the man who was doomed to share her fate, she met his familiar, dark scowl with one of her own.

Hell, if mutual destruction was to be assured anyway, why not just bring on the Apocalypse while Bill was at it, she wondered? At least then the rotten sod would perish in the flames of perdition right along with her.

“Yes, I’m just as thrilled as you are about this, Granger, let me tell you," Malfoy drawled, his countenance gloomy. "Happy effing Birthday to me."

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Brilliant! See, they were getting along swell already.


	2. Four Years Later...

**_5 June, 2010 (Saturday)_ **

****

"You want me to do _what?"_

Draco held up the length of wood in his hand and shook it at her.

"You must be joking!" he argued.

Hermione rolled her eyes, casting another _Protego,_ as their enemy closed in, swiping long, skeletal claws at her shields. They sparked as the monster scraped gouges into the magical bubble, but thankfully, the spell held.

There had to be a better defence than this! Why hadn't someone invented a protection spell to keep Greek mythological gods at bay by now? Honestly! She was going to take this up with the Unspeakables when she got back to London!

"I told you twice already. Four years to the day we've been partners, and I'm always repeating myself with you, Malfoy! For Merlin's sake!" She pointed to the river directly under their boat. "You put the flat end of the oar into the water and you shove the water backwards, repeatedly."

"If you mean for me to row through the fiery water, Granger, why don't you just say 'row through the fiery water, Draco'?" he asked with exasperation. "Honestly, you are the most maddening, verbose-"

Charon closed in, clawing at her shields until they were wispy threads, his bone jaw clacking with fury and the promise of retribution. Hermione felt the hot slash of panic slide through her spine and recast another Shield Charm, stepping back until she was pressed against her partner.

"Row the bloody boat, Draco!" she yelled, unnerved, putting everything she had into keeping Charon off of them. "Row now!"

Doing as she bade, Malfoy put the oar into the Phlegethon and began paddling their boat away from the shore. Her partner groaned with the effort.

"This would be easier with magic," he pointed out once more.

"It won't work," she sing-songed the reply to him for the third time. "The oar won't react to any magic but its original owner... who is currently attempting to make mince pies of my shields, so hurry the hell up, would you?"

Draco doubled his efforts, and Charon did likewise, nearly tipping the boat over.

Tired of this cat-and-mouse game with their relentless pursuer, Hermione aimed for Charon's bony feet, and as her Protection spell fell, cast a Knock-Back jinx that hurled him over the side of the boat and into the oily, fiery waters. He fought to stay afloat, but his cloak had caught fire and he was so busy putting himself out, that he could not grab hold of the boat as it sculled beyond his reach. He sank beneath the stygian waters of Hades.

"So sorry!" Hermione called back to him, feeling slightly guilty. True, Charon couldn't die by traditional means, but his cloak was surely ruined and it would take him a while to swim back to shore. "I hope you can get that mended!" she called out as they sailed out of sight towards their goal.

 

**X~~~~~X**

"We are never, _ever_ doing that again!" Malfoy groused as he began unbuttoning his burnt, torn and bloodied robes and heading for their communal shower in the small hotel room they shared. He was covered, the same as she, in dirt and other unnameable things as their trek through Hades had been arduous and disgusting, not to mention harrowing (especially when Charon had taken offence to them stealing his magical oar to make their passage easier).

"Agreed," Hermione capitulated with a weary sigh. "Hurry up in the shower. I need to get-" She made a disgusted noise as she fingered the slimy-textured substance in her hair. "Just hurry, please."

“You could always join me,” he teased, tossing her a smirk over his shoulder as he stripped his shirt off, leaving his strong, lean torso bared. "To save water and time, that is."

Avoiding temptation, Hermione turned her head away and waved him off. “Save your charms, Cassanova, I’m not biting. Just make it fast in there - and don’t use up all the shampoo this time! Those complimentary bottles only have a few ounces to spare, and I have a lot of hair to wash.”

He stepped into the bathroom, smirking, taking her rejection in stride. “Why don't you cut it then?” he called through the open door. “Maybe if your hair was shorter, you wouldn't shed like an Afghan hound during the mating season."

"I do no such thing," she half-heartedly disputed, a note of censure in her tired tone. "Stop fibbing."

"Do so," her partner contradicted. His trousers and pants flew out the door as he spoke, followed by his socks and boots. They landed in a lumpy heap on the worn, beige carpet. "Every time I get home from an assignment, my bags are filled with little clusters of your loose hairs all tufted together. First time I saw them, I thought they were Pygmy Puff nests, I swear. I've since dubbed them, 'Granger tumbleweeds,' and applied for a copyright on the term.”

“You're the world's biggest liar, Draco Malfoy,” she flatly accused, much too fatigued to give their verbal sparring the attention it deserved.

“Just for that, I’m using up all the shampoo!"

Hermione slumped, boneless with exhaustion in the only cosy chair in the room. "I'll get a new partner, if you do."

His reply was a snort of disbelief, and then the shower came on and the acoustics changed, making further discussion impossible.

He was right, of course: the threat had been an empty one. Frankly, they were both very aware that there was no way she was swapping Malfoy out. Mostly because her boss would then purposefully assign her a novice partner to train-up - which would mean she'd be tied to a desk for months getting the noob up to snuff, and then many more months taking the easier assignments to gently guide her apprentice into the job.

That kind of dull work would be the death of her.

Besides, in many aspects, Malfoy was perfectly suited to be her right-hand man, for he was erudite, razor-sharp, and crafty. Where she excelled at logical deduction (she fit square pegs into square holes with perfect precision), Draco's strength was in considering unconventional angles to problems (he fit square pegs into round holes with surprising accuracy). Bill had been right four years earlier to assign them to each other based upon those attributes, for there was no denying that they were a formidable partnership. Their success record had no equal in the history of Gringotts' Curse-Breaking office.

Of course, there was another reason that parting from him seemed completely impossible to imagine...

She was much too tired to chase that thought.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back against the worn cushion of the chair. The sound of the shower turning on and the pitter-patter of droplets hitting the tub lulled her to sleep.

Malfoy shook her awake at some indeterminate amount of time later. Blinking back the figurative sand from her eyes, Hermione stared up at her half-naked partner. Only a towel around his hips kept his modesty intact. "You were snoring," he commented with a shark’s grin, and stepped to his overnight bag on the bed to pull out his pyjamas.

"Was I?" she asked, still too tired to register much beyond the need to lay her head back down and return to her previous activity.

She must have dozed off again, for the next thing she knew, she was being lifted and carried. "Guess I'm going in for round two," Malfoy commented with a sigh. "Hope you don't mind my undressing you, Granger? I promise not to look… much."

"Hmmm," was all Hermione could reply, his words not really sinking in as his warmth dragged her deeper into sleep.

She was brought to full wakefulness the instant she was doused under the cold spray of the shower.

Her scream was loud enough to wake the residents of Hades that they'd left behind.

Malfoy’s laughter was filled with delight as he began helping her strip off her clothing. "Quit being such a baby. It’s only a little water."

She continued swearing at him until she finally threw him a dry towel to cover up and kicked him out of the bathroom – just before her lingerie was removed. He left her with a final look of regret over his bared shoulder, his heated, teasing gaze travelling her from head to toe.

Hermione tried to ignore the pixies that erupted in her belly as she watched his towel-wrapped arse walk out and the door shut behind him. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, reminding herself once more than this was not the first time that she’d felt the pull of sexual attraction between them, and surely it would not be the last. They were both unattached, relatively good-looking adults who worked in very close quarters together on a regular basis. That didn’t mean anything was going to happen.

After all, everyone knew that rule _numero uno_ was never to get involved with a co-worker. The scandal and potential for career damage from the fallout of an office affair were too high a price to pay, especially for a woman, as they were always judged harsher than their male counterparts, regardless of the idea of full equality under the law.

Besides, Malfoy had made it quite clear over the last four years that he had no intention of becoming involved in another monogamous relationship after Hurricane Astoria had swept through and cleaned him out. Remarriage was, as far as he was concerned, entirely off the table.

_"One time at the altar was enough for me, Granger."_

Sure, that had been said somewhere around the end of the first year of their re-acquaintance, but it was something Hermione had kept at the forefront of her mind when dealing with the man ever since.

Of course, she didn't have to work too hard to remind herself of that fact as it was reinforced every time they went on mission to some place foreign and were given separate rooms. Honestly, the sheer number of women Malfoy brought back to his hotel bed over the years... Well, they took several pairs of hands to count!

He had her tally beaten by a factor of nearly four in that regard. Simply unacceptable.

Which brought her face-to-face once more with rule _numero dos_ : never get involved with a man who prefers _a la carte_ to the main entree, as it cheapens the whole point of the meal. At least Hermione was looking for a second chance at love, even if it was all in the wrong places. Malfoy, however, was quickly becoming known as the devoted bachelor by all the rags.

So, although she was tempted by the man's continual offers for hot, hard sex in any position she wanted, Hermione felt it safer to turn him down.

And she took a lot of cold showers... just like now.

 

**X~~~~~X**

**_7 June, 2010 (Monday)_ **

****

Their success retrieving Persephone's mirror from the Underworld –a four month long research and retrieval endeavour– garnered Hermione and Malfoy a bonus of five-hundred Galleons each and a two-week holiday from their very pleased boss.

The extravagant bonus was mostly meant as a bribe, she knew; Bill generously rewarded them at the end of every mission as a carrot to prevent her and/or Malfoy from straying or considering opening up their own rival Curse-Breaking operation. However, regardless of the reason, she’d take whatever Bill wanted to throw her way without complaint.

"So, where do you plan to head for your break?" Draco asked her as they left Bill's office and headed down the hallway together towards the exit.

Hermione shrugged. "Back to Greece, I suppose. My cousin has been writing lately, asking me to come so she and the rest of the clan can show me around my mother’s ancestral country.” She negligently waved her hand through the air. “It’s a ruse, of course. They’re all in league with my mum in attempting to marry me off to some swarthy Greek male before my thirties have come and gone.”

Draco twirled his wand in his hand with practised ease and nimble fingers. "You’re partial to blonds," he pointed out that rather uncomfortably true fact, "so unless they introduce you to Apollo, himself, I doubt you’ll be saying, ‘I do’ to anyone from Greece." He stretched his arms wide and grinned big. "I, on the other hand, am in the right market for a ravishing dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty. Are your cousins female, and how old are they?"

She huffed with annoyance. "Forget it. They're Muggles."

"Since when has that been a problem for me?"

He was right, but she'd grasped at the first, obvious flaw to try to throw him off the trail. The truth was she didn't want him leering at her female cousins, who were all quite lovely and younger than she. A pang of jealousy passed through her at the thought of him hooking up with one of them, especially Rhachel, her favourite cousin of the bunch.

"I said forget it. You're not coming with me. Go find your own entertainment for the next two weeks."

As they hit Gringotts' front door, Draco held it open for her, allowing her to go first, his old-world chivalry once more rearing its charming head. "And pass up a chance to take blackmail pictures of you roaring drunk in some _bouzoukia_ and dancing your wild hair into limp submission? Do you even realise what you're asking me to give up?"

She glared up at him, shielding her eyes from the bright afternoon sun. "I said no, and I mean it." Truthfully, she needed to get away from Draco. Their four-month-long assignment this time had brought them dangerously close to crossing lines that would have jeopardized their working relationship, and she was feeling a little too sex-starved to trust herself around him at the moment.

She needed a shag, badly. No deeper, conflicting emotions, no past history to muck things up. Just fun, no strings... and just until she could get the vision of Malfoy, half-naked with a towel around his hips, out of her head.

She turned away from him, intending to go to Magical Menagerie to pick up some owl treats, as she was out at home (no thanks to Ron's continual letter-sending begging her to take him back... again). "Go visit Blaise," she instructed. "I'm sure his villa in Milan is still party-central for every Playwitch-of-the-month model. You're bound to find what you're looking for in companionship needs there."

Draco's long-legged stride easily caught up with her within a few steps. "Maybe I'll take that offer. What do you think about that?"

Truthfully, she tried not to, because the lump in her chest, in the area just over her heart, became as heavy as concrete when she did.

It was bad enough that her perfect ability for visual recall was like a looping film in her head whenever she gave any thought to the few times she'd accidentally walked in on him with other witches. The sight of him rising and falling over some other woman's silhouetted form in a well-recognizable rhythm, of his long, thick length sinking between someone else's thighs and hearing him moan in pleasure was both incredibly hurtful and inappropriately erotic. Imagining things that hadn't actually happened was sure to drive her spare.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I think... I need a good, long break from you."

He stopped in the middle of the alley, as if her words shocked him, but she firmly planted one foot in front of the other and kept walking, trying very hard not to feel guilty for speaking the truth.


	3. Let's Get The Party Started... Wait, What Are YOU Doing Here?!?

**_8 June, 2010 (Tuesday)_ **

****

Hermione left for Greece that morning after contacting her mother's sister, Aunt Eumelia, and making arrangements to come stay at her home in Nafplio for the next two weeks. She figured by then, she'd be sunned and shagged enough to be moderately relaxed upon returning to England... certainly ready to face Malfoy again.

As she approached her Floo, she reached up and patted the wooden box that held Crookshanks' ashes, as she did every time she left her house. "Keep a watch out for me again, Crooks, will you?" she requested of her long-gone, beloved familiar.

A moment later, Crookshanks' ghostly form stretched its way out of the box and sauntered across the open space between them to touch noses with her and meow in agreement to her request. The ethereal cold of the dead prickled her skin for a split second as they connected, and then he pulled away and was strolling over to the cottage's window and looking out. His long tail swished slowly back and forth in lazy enjoyment as he watched a hummingbird flutter in to inspect the honeysuckle blooms in her garden.

Secretly, Hermione knew her cat loved being called upon to rejoin the land of the living to act as guardian of their home while she was away, as it gave him the opportunity to stalk and frighten the bejeezers out of the squirrels that loved crossing her front fence.

Holding to her Muggle suitcase in one hand, she grabbed some green, sparkling Floo powder in her other and stepped into the cottage's large fireplace. Calling out the Greek Ministry of Magic’s main lobby address –the closest Floo to her Aunt's address that she knew of in Greece– she tossed down the powder and was transported away with a sickening tug.

 

**X~~~~~X**

**_11 June, 2010 (Friday)_ **

****

As a young child, Hermione had been to visit her mother’s side of the family rarely, as her parent’s dental practice hadn’t really gotten off the ground until she’d entered Hogwarts, and before that, money had been tight. So, despite the fact she hardly knew the Terezsi family (most of whom were, ironically, named Anita, Diane, or Nick), Hermione was, by day four of her whirlwind holiday, beginning to have serious reservations about returning to England. Greece was extraordinary, and her mum’s family lively and generous.

The rational side of her brain told her that such feelings were typical when you visited an exotic location not for work, but for pleasure, and that once the novelty of the area wore off, it would become just like any other place you lived, just with different weather. Still, the Grecian sun felt glorious upon her skin, and the Grecian men... well, they were certainly an appealing factor: dark-haired, dark-eyed, with colourful accents.

The night before, she'd had a rather enjoyable one-off with one of them – a friend of one of her cousins, Nick the First (there were four Nicks in her family it turned out, so she'd taken to numbering them). The fellow's name had been Alexio, and he'd been as far from platinum blond and grey-eyed as one could get. Twenty-five, built like a brick, with a considerate and generous disposition and a wicked smile. He'd relieved a lot of her tension.

 _Let's hear it for disease and pregnancy protection charms,_ she once more silently cheered.

Some days it was great being a witch.

"Hermione, you come," her cousin, Rhachel, requested, gripping her hand and tugging her out the door for another rousing day of mischief, fine food, and fun.

Despite the infrequency of their visits when she'd been a child, Hermione had nonetheless bonded to Rhachel as she would have a sister. The two had faithfully kept in contact over the years through Muggle post and the telephone, sending each other cards and birthday wishes. So it was when they were reunited at Hermione’s Aunt’s house, after not seeing each other face-to-face in over a dozen years, it was to squeals of delight and crushing hugs and tears of joy. Now, they were inseparable.

Of her entire family, only Rhachel knew Hermione’s secret life as a witch. There had been an accident when they’d been eleven and playing together, and Hermione’s first manifestation of magic had been in spontaneous reaction to that event. Rhachel had witnessed it, but the two had pinky-sworn never to reveal the truth, as Hermione was afraid of the consequences.

It was, of course, after that incident, when she'd returned home from the holiday, that Minerva McGonagall had been dispatched to Surrey to explain to Helene and Richard Granger all about their daughter’s unique ‘gifts’, and to invite Hermione to attend Hogwarts that fall to aid her in learning to control her magic. Hermione was also informed at that time that her mother’s lineage was rife with Squib intermarriages, which explained the very reason Hermione had been born with magic (as Muggle-born witches and wizards were the children of Squibs mating with Muggles).

Cousin Rhachel was, in fact, a Squib, and at the same time Minerva had been explaining things to Hermione about the wonderful, magical life that awaited her, someone from the Greek Ministry of Magic had been explaining to Rhachel that she’d fallen short – and extracting a binding oath from her never to tell any Muggles the truth or risk having her memories Obliviated. It had been a serious enough threat that Rhachel had kept her mouth closed all these years.

During this particular trip, Hermione had tried very hard never to mention magic around Rhachel, not wanting to rub it in that the other woman was born to have this fantastical ability, but for some reason, never would. It would hurt her cousin, and that was the last thing Hermione ever wanted to do. So, when she was required to perform feats of magic, she did so discreetly, as required by the Statue of Secrecy, and never in front of Rhachel.

Therefore, it came as a surprise to her when Rhachel requested Hermione use her magic to make her up for their night out to Mykonos with another set of cousins later that evening.

"Are you sure you want that?" she asked, feeling her heart tug with compassion at Rhachel's elevated excitement.

Her cousin nodded. "Yes, I wish to see again."

Making sure the door to her room was locked and the shades drawn, Hermione set her cousin down in front of the small mirror in the bedroom she'd been given for her use and began using simple Glamour Charms to create an elaborate and sexy up-do for the woman.

Squibs weren't forbidden from knowing about magic, or from experiencing its effects. In fact, they were cursed, in a way, to see it and feel it all around them, and yet never be able to touch it or move it with their own will. It was a sad affair that broke Hermione's heart, and made a part of her wish she'd gone the way of Healing after Hogwarts, rather than Curse-Breaking, for working on the cure for Squib-ism would have been a miraculous thing to have been a part of, indeed.

That truth was brought home as she watched Rhachel's dark, luminous eyes widen with delight, and a wide, white smile split her plump, ruby lips.

"Oh, is wonderful!" she cooed, reaching up to touch a curl left purposefully free-flowing on the side. "I wish..."

Her eyes dimmed, and her smile faltered.

Hermione's eyes brightened with tears. "I'm sorry," was all she could offer, and hugged her cousin from behind. "I wish for you, too."

Rhachel recovered quickly. "Is okay. I have you for this, yes?"

With a firm nod, Hermione agreed, "Yes. Always."

 

**X~~~~~X**

Mykonos was a well-to-do island that tourists flocked to for the nightlife and shopping. It was a favourite for its scenic views and its cosmopolitan attitude, while retaining its old-world charm.

After checking into their hotel for their single overnight stay, and refreshing their make-up and hair with a simple wave of Hermione's wand, she and Rhachel met the rest of her cousins – _Nick the Second, Nick the Fourth, Anita, Nicki, and Diane_ – in the lobby. They then all headed out together to enjoy dinner and the nightlife.

Hermione adored the island, especially the last club Rhachel and her other cousins had arranged for them to visit. Cavo Paradiso was a large building situated just outside of town, on a cliff's edge. It was a multi-tiered structure that followed the natural landscape's miniature plateaus, with a vast open area for dancing. Some of the club was sheltered under a giant overhanging roof that had been wired for a dazzling electric lightshow and acoustically built to bounce sound from one section to another without an echo. Outside, under the open sky, another dance area surrounded an odd-shaped pool in the middle, which dancers could use, if they wanted to take a dip. There were tall stools with tables lined up at the edges of the pool and a reserved space indoors with benches and low tables so guests could take a rest if they wanted. Its design was the perfect fusion of modern and ancient, of relaxing resort and high-energy disco.

The bar was packed with bodies, all clamouring for their first or next drink, even while the house trance played on in the background.

The night was just getting started at ten o'clock, and Hermione knew she'd be dancing until at least one in the morning after her cousin, Nick the Fourth (an extremely attractive swarthy man who had been eyeing her up like candy since she'd arrived, and who had turned out to be her third cousin by marriage in reality), took her hand and led her directly into the sea of bodies. He pulled her in tight and began to move.

Hermione was a bit embarrassed, to tell the truth, feeling his every curve rub against hers on the sardine-packed dance area, but she went with it, determined to have some fun.

Nick was fun, but it was clear from the get-go that they were not in synch and moved awkwardly together. Further, to her growing disappointment, Hermione realised that the look Nick laid on her was the same one he was giving other women nearby. His eyes roved over the crowd, seeking potentially better prospects, even as his hands curved around her backside and squeezed.

 _So not happening,_ she thought, as she caught him giving the 'well, hello there' nod to a girl dancing nearby.

She tapped his cheek and gave him an arch eyebrow. He had the good grace to blush and focus on her for the rest of the song after that. Still, she put some space between them, assuring his hands stayed plastered to her waist and could not roam.

At least she'd get to dance once tonight, even if it wasn't ideal.

By the end of the song, Nick had clearly gotten the vibe from her that she wasn't interested in being a notch on his belt. He led her back to their group stationed near the bar, thanked her for the dance, and bought her a beer to make up for it, but within ten minutes, he was politely excusing himself and heading out into the fray to continue trolling.

 _Typical,_ she thought, rolling her eyes. What had she expected though, especially from a twenty-one year old, hormonally-challenged University student?

Not long after that, Hermione had been approached by another man seeking a dance. She'd taken a chance with him, but his mate had shown up in the middle of it, and the two had sandwiched her between them, making it clear that they were looking for a little threesome action. A shag she might be after, but Hermione was a one-on-one kind of girl. She extricated herself from that mess rather quickly, and headed back for the bar to find Rhachel.

Her cousin, however, was nowhere to be seen. Hermione quickly scanned the area, moving between levels, and finally spotted her cousin-

-dancing closely with a very familiar blond.

Jaw falling to the level of her kneecaps and heart sinking into the floor, Hermione could only watch as Rhachel and Draco Malfoy –who should have been thousands of miles away just then– got rather familiar with some serious bump-and-grind action on the dance floor.

What the bloody hell was _he_ doing there? Hadn't she expressly told him to stay away?

Malfoy was as smooth as ever, giving Rhachel his sexiest, naughtiest, "I want you" smile, and her cousin was staring at Hermione's co-worker as if she would happily discard her knickers on the spot if asked.

"Hell," Hermione muttered under her breath.

Score another woman down, victim to the Malfoy charm.

 

**X~~~~~X**

Nursing a beer, Hermione continued watching from the side lines, fuming, as her work partner seduced her cousin.

Did he know they'd be here tonight and who Rhachel was to her? No, he couldn't possibly...

Yes, of course he did. There was absolutely no statistical probability in the universe for his appearing in the exact same club where she was, on this particular night, and having it be one, giant coincidence. First, no Arithmatical or Muggle mathematical formulae existed for such a happy twist of fate. Second, Malfoy was Slytherin, and absolutely nothing was accidental where _that_ sort was concerned. And third, Draco never liked being told 'no' to anything, especially if it meant he was going to miss out on some fun. He was a spoiled git that way.

He'd followed her to Greece; had probably been waiting for this exact chance, even, to make his grand entrance and tweak her nose. He was always zinging her in one fashion or another back home, so why not when she went on holiday as well? Par for the course.

Fine, she’d let the arsehole have his fun doing the 'safe Lambada' with Rhachel in public tonight, but the moment they came off the dance floor, she was giving him what-for, and warning her gentle, kind cousin off the bastard.

A single man saddled up to her while she stewed in her anger. Hermione didn’t even glance at him, her focus solely on Draco’s hands on Rhachel’s hips.

That ferret better not move them from that spot, she thought, or he’d be fingerless come tomorrow morning!

“How about a dance?” the interested stranger asked her. He’d had to lean down and press his mouth to her ear to be heard over the music. Unfortunately, due to the proximity, she could smell his halitosis.

Trying not to cringe, Hermione shook her head. “Not interested.”

“Come on, baby! Let’s give it a go!” he said in heavily-accented English.

She stepped to the side and glared up at him. “I said no,” she firmly replied, meeting his eye. “Thank you.”

Sure, she could have used the 'I'm waiting for my boyfriend' excuse to get the bloke gone, but her quota for pushy, disrespectful men had reached its limit for one lifetime. Seriously, she shouldn't have to lie to get an over-eager suitor to back off. 'No' meant 'no', and in her estimation, a man just needed to accept a rejection at face-value, and stop trying to bully a girl into giving in to his advances. Wearing a woman down by badgering her for her attention was not considered a 'win', no matter how much a guy's ego misled him into believing so.

Truthfully, that sort of ill-mannered behaviour, more than any other, disgusted her in a prospective date. Ron used to pull that crike on her all the time to get her to accept his sexual advances on nights when she just wasn't in the mood. It irritated the shit out of her, and was the main reason they weren't together anymore.

A wrinkle appeared in the stranger's brow, indicating his exasperation, as if he couldn’t believe she’d had the audacity to turn him down. "Whatever, bitch. You're ugly anyway." He turned and walked away, seeking another target.

Hermione restrained her natural impulse to chuck her beer bottle at the foul-mouthed tosser.

It figured. A woman stands up for herself and lets her preferences to be left alone known, and she's called some nasty name. Real nice.

"Fish breath!" she yelled at his retreating back.

Someone suddenly tapped her on the shoulder. She turned quickly to find a sweaty, slightly winded Rhachel at her side. Malfoy stood behind her red-cheeked cousin, one hand on the woman's waist, but his attention was all on Hermione. He dared to give her a snarky, 'gotcha' grin.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, giving Malfoy the silent, 'I'm going to beat you up later for this' vow.

His grin only widened as he accepted her silent challenge.

Rhachel shouted something to her, but it was lost over the repeating words of the song playing overhead. "What?" Hermione asked, trying to hear by tilting her head towards her cousin, and be heard by yelling.

The music shifted just then, and the tune was another trance number with no words and a slower beat, allowing for them to hear each other better.

"I bring someone to meet you," Rhachel reiterated in her broken English, apparently attempting to introduce Hermione to Draco.

Hermione snorted and put her lips over her cousin’s ear. "I know him. Draco and I work together."

Rhachel pulled back, surprised by this revelation. "You know? Then this is good thing, yes?”

“No, not good. Very bad,” she replied. “Malfoy, you see, is a complete cad.”

Her cousin didn’t recognise the archaic English word, and seemed confused by the amount of hostility in Hermione’s voice, but Malfoy simply laughed at the insult. His silvery eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Oh-ho! So, you think me a rascal, do you, Granger?”

She scowled at him. “More like a blackguard. Why are you here? I expressly told you not to bother me while on holiday.”

His amusement slipped from his features in a microsecond, his mercurial nature striking again. “Who says I’m here for you?” he blandly pointed out. His arm snaked around Rhachel’s waist and he pulled her rather possessively into his side. “If you’ll recall, I stated that I was in the mood for an exotic brunette to enjoy during _my_ holiday.” He tilted her cousin’s chin up to stare her in the eye. “Well, I’ve found one.”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Hermione pointed the tip of her finger right in Draco’s face. “We’re both well aware of what you do to women, Malfoy. You leave my cousin alone or so help me-!” She left the threat hanging, but was fully prepared to back it up with violence, if need be.

At just that moment, Nick the Second (Nick the Fourth's older brother) showed up, slipping his arms around her and pulling her back from the edge. He began speaking to Rhachel in Greek, his words too fast for Hermione to catch, and far too advanced for her to interpret with her very rudimentary knowledge of the language.

Rhachel replied, her hand waving back and forth between Hermione and Malfoy and the dance floor.

“Ah,” Nick said in comprehension. The next thing Hermione knew, he was leading her away by the hand. “Come, Hermione, we go.”

She sunk her heels in, but Nick kept tugging her onward, ignoring her protests. They were heading for the exit.

When she finally scratched him to get him to let up, he turned on her. “Rhachel likes this man,” her cousin explained to her in exasperation. “She wishes to dance with him. You stay with me. I take you to hotel.”

“She doesn’t know him!” Hermione tried to get him to desperately understand. “I do! I work with him, and let me tell you, he's got a bad record with women!”

Nick stared at her with a gaze that could have easily plumbed the secrets from her heart if given enough time. “Hermione, Rhachel knows this man. She tells me they are… How you say? Lovers.”

Hermione’s jaw hit the floor again.

“What? But that's… that's ridiculous! They just met!”

He shook his head rather firmly “They were together, Hermione, years ago. Lovers. She says so. You understand?”

Yeah, she understood. She understood in spades.

Somehow, some way, her cousin had once upon a time been involved with Draco Malfoy, and it seemed that he'd now come to Greece for his two-week holiday to rekindle the affair while enjoying a little bit of the Aegean surf and sun.

He hadn't followed her here at all. He'd been after her cousin all along.

 _Her_ cousin.

Talk about improbable coincidences.

"Shit."

 

**X~~~~~X**

Back at the hotel, Hermione bid Nick the Second goodnight and shut the door in his face, too deflated and upset to invite him in. Stalking into the adjoining bathroom, she stripped off her clothes and jewellery, and kicked her shoes into the corner. With a wave of her wand, she had her face and teeth cleansed, and then she proceeded to floss.

Fuming, Hermione realised, when one had a piece of waxed string lodged between their teeth was a difficult thing to accomplish, but she'd managed it nonetheless.

Malfoy was here... with Rhachel. Had he just arrived? Where was he staying? Was Rhachel coming back to their room tonight or not?

Why did she even care?

"I don't," she firmly informed her reflection in the small mirror over the basin.

As she turned off the lights and crawled into bed, she stared up at the blank, white ceiling above and wondered if she should call this holiday short and just return to England or not. With Malfoy around to distract Rhachel, her primary reason for coming to Greece –to get away from him and to hang around with her favourite cousin after so many years- was as good as done.

She shut her eyes, determined to sleep, but all she could see behind her lids was the way Rhachel was looking up at Draco with hunger, and how he'd been as equally absorbed in her cousin. It took her another hour and using relaxation techniques to finally shut the visions off and to fall into an exhausted slumber. 


	4. So Much For Fun...

**_12 June, 2010 (Saturday)_ **

****

By nine the next morning, Hermione sent her Patronus out to seek Malfoy and deliver the message that he'd better know where Rhachel was and that she was safe. Her otter scampered away, unseen by Muggles, but clear as day to any magical folk in the vicinity.

The return message came trundling through the bathroom door as Hermione was showering. Malfoy's white, wispy ferret snarked back in his voice.

_"Stop being a Mother Hen, Granger. Rhachel is perfectly fine. With me."_

As it disappeared, a strange hitch caught in the centre of Hermione's chest, followed by a very familiar sinking feeling in her belly.

Rhachel had slept with Draco. Apparently, it wasn't the first time they'd done the horizontal tango (as Ginny was so fond of calling it), but still...

Random, unknown women were one thing, but this was her cousin, for Godric's sake. He must have known! Even if no one had overtly told him of their connection, the resemblance Hermione and Rhachel shared was uncanny - at least so everyone in the family had commented when she'd first arrived at her Aunt's home days before. She might be a Granger and have her father's pointy elbows and freckles and honey highlights in her dark hair, but she'd mostly favoured her mother's family's genetics. One look and Malfoy should have picked out that truth that there was some relation there between the two women.

Well, obviously, that wasn't at all a factor in his association with Rhachel. He'd said he'd wanted a brunette for a little fun, and he'd now had one. Probably multiple times, too.

Yes, she was going back to England. This was too much for her to handle.

Gathering up her and her cousins overnight bags, she went down to the lobby and checked out. Then, she met up with her other cousins, as pre-arranged, by the boat dock at eleven for the trip back to the mainland.

She would return to her Aunt's house, and inform her that a work emergency had called her back to London, she decided. There would be many apologies and promises of a return visit soon, and then she'd leave Malfoy behind.

As she stared down into the gorgeous, crisp waters below the ferry, she wondered if it was too late to book a Caribbean cruise instead.

 

**X~~~~~X**

Things never went the way Hermione Granger expected them to, especially when Malfoy was involved in a situation.

She'd gotten back to her Aunt's house a little after twelve that afternoon with her lies fully practised in her head and ready to be delivered, only to find Draco and Rhachel sitting down to lunch with the Terezsis. Rather than feeling defeated by his presence, his relaxed, smiling, carefree expression had only fuelled her determination to go through with her false story and get out while she still could. No way was she spending the next week listening to her cousin gush in private about how wonderful a lover Draco was, or watching him touch her cousin in small, intimate ways.

She just couldn't do it. Not anymore. Something had shifted and broken last night when she'd seen him with Rhachel, and now there was no going back.

Jealousy truly was the Great Illuminator, wasn't it, she wryly mused.

As she opened her mouth and gave her excuses for why she'd have to cut her holiday short and return to England, however, that foul git of a partner of hers poked holes in every single one of her excuses. He countered her every claim, offering solutions that seemed plausible and difficult to argue. Swayed by his logic, her Aunt had agreed with him, as had her other cousins.

In the end, politeness required Hermione not make a scene, so she'd reluctantly agreed to stay for the remainder of her holiday, as planned.

She'd steadfastly ignored Malfoy's triumphant smirk, though.

 

**X~~~~~X**

**_12-14 June, 2010 (Saturday-Monday morning)_ **

****

All weekend Malfoy accompanied Rhachel everywhere, and since Rhachel was Hermione's main tour guide for her holiday that meant her co-worker was continually hanging around and snarking at her. Hermione hadn't had a moment's peace while out on the town shopping, visiting ancient ruins, or taking meals with the two.

In between, the 'love birds' behaved exactly as Hermione had predicted: disgustingly enamoured of each other. They held hands everywhere, they shared secret giggles as Hermione walked ahead of them, and they even fed each other from the same fork on occasion. Every night, after they'd decided to call the day over, Rhachel would disappear with Malfoy to his private home on the coast _("The Malfoys own properties in several different countries, Granger. We're rich, you know.")_ only to reappear at breakfast the next day. There was no need to ask where they went or what they were doing during that time.

 

**X~~~~~X**

**_14 June, 2010 (Monday afternoon)_ **

****

The stress was becoming too much.

Hanging around with Rhachel cooing over Draco, and he flirting outrageously back was enough to make a horse sick. Hermione felt like gagging whenever they were in the same room, which did wonders to suppress her appetite, leaving her feeling near faint with hunger at times.

The time schedule of the foreign culture was getting to her, as well. The Greeks didn't eat much of a breakfast in general, they consumed a light snack around eleven-in the morning, ate a slightly bigger lunch around two in the afternoon, and then celebrated a heavy, big meal at eleven at night. They generally stayed up very late, too. This was in completely opposition to Hermione's normal schedule and diet, and she was having problems adjusting, despite having been at her Aunt's house for a week.  

Then, at lunch that afternoon, Draco said something in flawless Greek to their group _._ Everyone at the table laughed. The fact that her partner knew Greek at all was a surprise to her, and for some reason, it irritated her as well. Was there anything Malfoy couldn't do with some measure of perfection?

Hermione was about to crack.

"You no like food, Hermione?" Nick the Second politely asked from across the table.

Everyone stopped eating to glance at her, as if worried. Hermione glanced down at her plate, pushing the cucumber pieces in her _choriatici_ –a traditional salad– around, and realised she'd only taken a bite or two of the entire meal. Goodness, she was making a scene, wasn't she?

"Oh, no, it's wonderful!" she stated, plucking a tomato out of the mix and popping it into her mouth, making a production of chewing and enjoying it.

Everyone turned back to their meals and their conversation, convinced that she wasn't ill.

She glanced across the table to find Malfoy's assessing gaze upon her. He didn't look away at being caught staring, but she did feel the heat bloom in her cheeks at the odd sensation that slipped up her spine as their eyes met.

Next to her, Nick the Third (cousin to the other Nicks, and equally as handsome as his namesakes) reached out and patted her hand. "I bring someone you meet today," he told her with a sly smile. "Like Alexio, but better. You like, you see. He good looking."

Oh, fantastic. Another cousin was trying to set her up. Just what she needed!

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Malfoy's fork pause in mid-air, but when she glanced over at him again, he continued to eat, his attention upon his plate. 


	5. Things Are Looking Up... Sort-Of

**_14-16 June, 2010 (Monday afternoon-Wednesday)_ **

****

Nick’s friend, Apollodorus, was aptly named in Hermione’s opinion, for the man was a tall, well-muscled, blond-haired, green-eyed gift from the heavens. 'Good looking' didn't cover it; the man was magazine model gorgeous – which is how he made quite a bit of money, actually, as the face and body of an ad campaign for a well-branded men's cologne and for men's clothing.

From the get-go, Hermione and her new tour guide- _slash_ -date hit it off. Apollodorus was outgoing and flirty, much as Ron had been, but infinitely more well-mannered and conscientious of those around him. He was polite, his English was well-practised, and his conversation was quite adept. He had an attractive voice and laugh, and there was a wealth of information contained in that head of his, which he was generous to share when prompted.

As he took her through museums in Athens over the next two days, charming her with engaging conversation and his good manners, Hermione couldn't help but hope that perhaps Apollodorus would be the answer to her holiday prayers. She'd taken the edge off already on this trip with Alexio in a round of mutual pleasure. Maybe now she'd get the sensual, unforgettable experience with Apollodorus... and it would be enough for her to stop obsessing over the unobtainable Malfoy and look towards other, more commitment-interested opportunities.

Because, really, her continued, obsessive staring at Draco whenever he was unaware wasn't in the least bit healthy to continue. He was with her cousin, for Godric's sake. She _had_ to move on.

Speaking of which… The moment their threesome became a foursome, Malfoy's behaviour had noticeably changed. No longer swaggering about or snarking at her, he vacillated between periods of silence, nearly brooding, and overcompensating in his flirting with Rhachel. It was as if he couldn’t stand to be upstaged by Apollodorus – which was completely silly, in Hermione's opinion, as Malfoy had the girl he wanted, and Rhachel seemed perfectly content being on his arm. He had absolutely nothing to prove.

So what was with the attitude problem?

And why did his altered conduct make Hermione inexplicably nervous and self-conscious?

 

**X~~~~~X**

**_17 June, 2010 (Thursday)_ **

****

"Look here, Hermione!" Rhachel hailed her over. Her cousin was holding up a gorgeous yellow-coloured, silk scarf that contained a lovely pattern of orange and brown squares on the side. It was very traditional Greek. "Perfect for you."

Hermione and Apollodorus went to join Rhachel at the small rack under the awning. They were shop-hopping in Nafplio that morning, and some vendors had their wares displayed outdoors under sunshades to entice customers. The scarves were under the watchful eye of a hawkish merchant, who noticed Rhachel holding it up against Hermione's cheek.

"Ah, the perfect item for such a beautiful woman," he said in Greek, while Apollodorus translated for her. "So striking against your skin and with such dark hair and eyes."

Apollodorus agreed, fingering the material as he brushed it gently against her cheek. "It's perfect with your colouring."

"She looks better in Slytherin green," Malfoy countered, reaching for a scarf that was hand-dyed in different shades of green. "Yellow is too Hufflepuff for her."

Apollodorus and Rhachel frowned at that.

"What is Slytherin and Hufflepuff?" her cousin asked.

"A brand of clothing," Hermione fibbed, quickly covering for her partner's slip, throwing him a glare.

Malfoy grinned at her lie (the first positive response he'd shown her in days). "Indeed. Designed with far too many happy frills and lace, in my opinion," he supplied. "Granger's better in cooler, more sophisticated colours." He glanced at her through his thick, gold lashes with an inscrutable expression. "Like emerald green." He held up the scarf he'd been examining for her inspection.

She glanced at it, and privately agreed it was perfectly suited to her taste and something she would buy for herself. "I disagree," she countered, however, just to be contrary. "I actually prefer sexy Gryffindor red." She answered Rhachel's question before the other woman could even ask it. "Another brand of clothing."

Apollodorus reached for a scarf hidden behind some others, its corner just peeking out. When he pulled it free, he smiled in triumph. "Perfect for you," he declared, draping it around her shoulders. The shoppe keeper immediately agreed. He rattled something off in Greek that made Malfoy frown. Apollodorus translated.

"Lovely and sensual! Flowers for romance, animal print for passion. I can see it suits you well. Yes, a very fine match made by your boyfriend."

Her cheeks heated, but she didn't correct the merchant. Instead, she purchased the scarf (refusing to accept money from Apollodorus for it, or to take it as a gift), and put it away in her shopping sack.

As Apollodorus led her to the next stall, her gaze quickly turned to Draco. He was watching her go, still holding the green scarf in his hands, his face pale and hard with disapproval.

He didn't speak another word to her that whole day.

 

**X~~~~~X**

**_18 June, 2010 (Friday)_ **

****

As they exited the House of Fear at the Allou Fun Park, Hermione was laughing and clutching her belly with hilarity.

The cheap carnival exhibit had been a ridiculously silly experience, with its rubber and silicone displays of mutilated corpses, deranged, psychotic clowns, and prisoners in chains trussed up to look like victims of the Tower. The ominous soundtrack playing overhead through hidden speakers had been meant to create a spooky ambiance, but all Hermione could think as she'd walked along was that the song's composer had been a bit too enamoured with the pipe organ and timpani drums. The real fun, though, had been the costumed and made-up employees jumping out of dark spaces along the route to spook the every-loving brains right out of them. Some of them had appeared as chainsaw wielding maniacs or demented doctors carrying bloodied medical instruments, while others wore masks, pretending to be werewolves, ogres, and even the Devil, himself.

Hermione had hooted and sniggered in face of such illusionary horror. She'd seen scarier things in Hagrid's sock drawer, honestly. Rhachel, however, had screamed her bloody head off, and at one point, Apollodorus had dropped back after politely offering to escort her to the exit while covering her eyes. Malfoy didn't seem in the least bit offended by the other man's offer to guide his girlfriend out, as indeed, he seemed quite ready to leave Rhachel behind in his irritation.

The man abhorred wimpy females, she knew.

"Entertaining," her partner dryly commented, coming out behind her, straightening his jumper. His tone was light, despite the snark, as he bent his mouth to Hermione's ear so their conversation would be private. "Reminded me a bit of Hades meets Hellingly Asylum. What about you?"

She chuckled and reached up on tip toe to whisper in his ear. "They could have done with more Charon and less Carnival of Lost Souls, I thought."

He grinned and was about to reply when Rhachel and Apollodorus brought up the rear, coming out next. Their presence effectively shut down her conversation – the first good one she'd had with him since before this whole trip, actually.

Things became suddenly awkward as Hermione's date look from her to Malfoy and back again, a clear question in his eyes.

"I not like that," Rhachel stated, pointing back at the House of Fear, as she disentangled herself from Apollodorus' hold. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her waist. "Awful place."

Ever the gentleman, Apollodorus removed his coat and wrapped it around Rhachel's shoulders, providing her warmth, as she appeared chilled.

A raucous series of terrified screams suddenly erupted through the air and had every one of them tensed and went instantly alert, seeking the trouble. Hermione unconsciously reached for her wand, which was tucked into a magicked pocket inside her coat, but stopped just shy of pulling it free when the shrieks cut off rather abruptly a few seconds later.

She had a momentary flashback to the Final Battle of Hogwarts. It was of that moment when the Acromantulas had broken into the castle and every witch and wizard had spotted them. It hadn't mattered what side of the war you were on then - you ran, instinctually knowing that people were nothing more than food to the giant spiders. The sharp, piercing cries of terror had reverberated off the stone walls of the crumbling castle, and then cut off as people used what precious breath they had left to instead pump their lungs so they could beat a hasty retreat.

The similarities of sound caused her chest to tighten with fear.

As she glanced sideways at Malfoy, she noted he was in much the same state as her, his grey gaze glassy had momentarily turned inward. He was reliving his own set of bad memories, she knew.

A few tense moments later, and the Shock Tower ride nearby reset itself for the next batch of riders, and Hermione understood that the war was long done for them both, and there was nothing here that would hurt them. She let out a shaky breath and calmly reached over to place her hand on Draco's wrist. "It's okay," she murmured under her breath. "It was just one of the rides. It takes people up, and then drops them before the machine catches them right before they hit the ground. It's supposed to be fun."

Draco looked down at her, at where her hand rested upon him, and eased up on un-holstering his wand from its hidden place in his coat. He relaxed under her touch, trusting her word and experience in this matter... as partners were meant to do.

Their eyes met, locked.

Hermione's heart painfully, awkwardly thumped in her chest.

"Let's not go there," Rhachel stated, pulling them out of the moment and back into the present. She was pointed at the Shock Tower ride as she snuggled up to Draco's unoccupied side and linked their arms, leaning into him. "I not like that one either."

Hermione stepped away from Malfoy, putting a safe distance between them once more.

What had she been thinking? Foolish witch! Draco was involved with her cousin! And she...

She headed over to Apollodorus' side, and didn't leave it again for the rest of the night.


	6. You Tear Me Up

**_19 June, 2010 (Saturday)_ **

****

After a day of rest and relaxation, the night's entertainment was planned by Nick the First: they would all enjoy a bonfire on a beach just outside Aegio, near Apollodorus’ home, drinking and eating and talking and singing songs (Nick the Third played the _bouzouki,_ a type of Greek guitar). It was a popular destination for such gatherings, and so didn't require a permit, and best of all, it was free to everyone. The whole group of cousins were coming, along with their dates, and Hermione's Aunt was packing for them enough food to feed an army. The Nicks were stacking coolers full of beers and fizzy drinks, while Diane and Anita made sure there were blankets, matches, and kindling.

Hermione was, of course, bringing Apollodorus along. A part of her –her emotional side– was worried that tonight he might make a move and honestly, she was hesitant to follow through, unsure if it was the right course of action anymore. Her logical side was at war with her emotional side, however, prompting her to be brave and to try.  

She was torn.

It was all Malfoy's fault, the rotten git. If he hadn't been so ill-tempered one moment, then amusing and flirty the next ever since Apollodorus had showed up on the scene, she might feel a bit easier. Her partner's continually shifting moods, however, were affecting her, making her wonder his reasons, lighting a small hope in her heart...

It was the sound of the door to her temporary bedroom shutting and the feel of magic released nearby that made her look up from rummaging through her valise to put together an appropriate outfit for an evening outside. Draco was leaning against the door, looking down at his feet as if he was puzzling something out in his head.

“What did you just do?” she asked, instantly suspicious. Malfoy was acting weird again, and even having been his partner for four years, sometimes he could still be unfathomable to her.

“Silenced the room,” he admitted, glancing up to meet her eye with all seriousness. “Keeping the Muggles out.”

A nervous flutter took up residence in her belly and she rubbed at it with one hand. “Why?”

“A little, pesky thing called the ‘Statute of Secrecy’ – or had you forgotten?”

He sounded a tad angry.

“Of course not. You're quite aware that I’m careful around the family. Rhachel is a Squib, though, and she knows all about the magical world. The Ministry here has already talked to her about remaining silent on the matter,” she explained. “So, you needn’t worry about either one of us slipping in front of her, if that’s your issue.”

Malfoy stared at her as if she were daft. “I already knew that. She and I have history, as you are well aware by now. I wasn’t referring to her.”

Ah. He was speaking of _her_ newest interest.

The nerve of him, insinuating that she'd let hormones get in the way of the law!

“I’m perfectly capable of juggling such a secret, Malfoy, especially from Apollodorus. I've been keeping that law sacred since I was eleven and was first informed of the Statute,” she pointed out. “Thank you for the concern, however. Now, if you don’t mind-”

Just like that, she dismissed him, just as he’d been dismissing her most of all this last week while he played footsy with her cousin. She turned back to her shirts, and transfigured one into a cashmere cable-knit jumper that was thick enough for her to ward off any chill. Then, she chose an appropriate pair of Muggle jeans, and her packed trainers. They’d be cosy and warm for tonight, and she’d bring a jacket with a hood, just in case…

“You can’t seriously be considering anything serious with that blond doufus. He’s too much like Weasley.”

Shocked by the cruelty and vehemence in his words, Hermione turned on her partner. “How dare you! Apollodorus may be as open and enthusiastic as Ron, but in case you failed to notice, that’s where the similarities end. My date is an intelligent and witty man, and he has excellent manners. I’d be glad to get to count him as a new friend.”

The dark cynicism slashing across Draco’s aristocratic features astonished her. “Oh, I’m sure that’s exactly what he’s after with you – just friendship.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, confused by his odd over-protectiveness. “Perhaps he does want more, but so what? What’s it to you? I’m perfectly capable of deciding _that_ course of action for myself as well. If things lead in that direction, I’ll take the necessary precautions, and thank you to mind your business.”

Despite her rebuke, like a hound on a trail, Draco refused to let up on the issue. “He’s only interested in one thing from you, Granger. Even a blind man could see that much.”

She sniffed in disdain at him. “For Merlin’s sake, I’m a grown woman, Malfoy, and a rather accomplished witch to boot. I can take care of my own affairs, and don’t need a man lording over me, especially the king of one-offs.” She moved into his personal space and poked him repeatedly in the chest with one finger. "Besides, you're one to lecture me on shagging a little known quantity, Mister I'll-Pull-Anything-That-Walks-Swims-Or-Flies. How many times have I had to bang on our interconnected hotel walls to tell you to shut the feck up while you're nailing some witch to the bloody mattress – while on mission, I might add?"

He grabbed her wrist to stop her from poking him. "We're not talking about me. We're talking about you and that Greek playboy with the pretty green eyes and the cunt-licking smile."

"Let go of me," she snarled back in his face, yanking her arm to get free. "You have no right to say such things about him to me, you bloody, _bloody_ hypocrite! Besides, I happen to like his smile!"

Malfoy's face was red with his anger, his eyes narrowed and spitting daggers. He used his considerable height and weight advantage to push her bodily backwards. She forcibly retreated across the room until she collided with the small bedside table, nearly tripping over it. Bracing herself against the wall with her free hand, she managed to keep her feet under her, but was at an awkward angle that put a strain on her lower back.

"Well, if I'd known it was that easy to get into your knickers, Granger-" he hissed, but was interrupted in his tirade by a knock at her door.

"Hermione? Ready go?" Rhachel asked from the other side of the divide, having heard none of the conversation thanks to Malfoy's one-way Silencing Charm.

One beat. Two.

Hermione met Malfoy's resentment with her own, refusing to look away. Her heart pounded out a stallion's rhythm in her chest, and her throat felt tight as tears flooded her eyes.

How could he do this to her? How could he say such hurtful things? In four years, she hadn’t once openly commented on his parade of affairs, or the quality of the women he'd taken to his bed. They were supposed to be partners, ever watching the others' back, that judging nonsense long ago laid to rest when they'd come to an agreement to work together rather than in opposition! They'd put their lives in the hands of the other more times than she could count since, and she’d given this relationship _–him–_ her all, even going so far as to turn a mostly blind eye to his sexual exploits.

But perhaps that had been the problem all along. Trusting someone with your life wasn't the same as trusting them with your heart, was it? It should be, but more often than not, it wasn't.

"Your girlfriend's waiting."

The bitterness in her tone was hard to miss.

Malfoy released her with careful reluctance, one finger at a time, and then he stepped back and tugged at his shirt to straighten it. When he felt he was presentable, he turned on his heel without a word and headed out the door, speaking in Greek to Rhachel, who was waiting out in the hallway. A few seconds later, the two headed off, and the door closed behind him, leaving Hermione alone once more in her temporary room.

On shaky knees, she made it to the bed and sat down, feeling dizzy from the confrontation.

She and Malfoy hadn't fought like that since the first time they'd been assigned together and she'd nearly cocked-up that mission by not having his back during an emergency. Her childhood prejudice had firmly stood in the way of doing her job and had nearly cost him his life then. She hadn't repeated the mistake since, realising how she'd needed to let those times go and to accept that Draco was her assigned partner, like it or not.

He was her _partner._

Only he wasn't, at least not in the sense that Hermione desperately wanted him to be.

_"One time at the altar was enough for me, Granger."_

And in the meantime, Rhachel (and a slew of other women after her) who would gladly scratch his itches for him.

Oh, how she hated how that thought finally released her tears!

 

**X~~~~~X**

The bonfire was cheerful and warm, as was Apollodorus' arm around her as she sat next to him, but Hermione was feeling anything but. She was cold all the way to her marrow, emotionally and physically. She huddled in her coat as the night grew longer and the winds colder.

She engaged in polite conversation with her date, trying to ignore the fact that Draco and Rhachel were off on a walk by themselves, having left their group arm-in-arm and speaking in hushed tones half an hour ago. They were completely out of sight now, having followed the path of the beach around a bend, and for all she knew, Malfoy was taking full advantage of that fact for a little humpfest fun.

The idea made her positively nauseated.

After an indeterminate amount of time sitting in silence next to each other, Apollodorus' moved. He leaned his mouth towards her ear as if to impart a secret.

"How long have you loved him?"

Hermione jerked back, staring at him with incredulity. "What?"

He gave her a discerning smile.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "You've only known me a few days. Is it that obvious?"

Apollodorus shrugged. "I have been there." His eyes strayed to the bend in the beach, where Rhachel had disappeared, and his tone went soft with longing. "Am still there."

"You and Rhachel?" she whispered, assuring none of the others around the bonfire could hear them.

He nodded. "I didn't know how much until he'd shown up that first time, two years ago and began courting her."

Two years? Then that meant he must have come to Greece during that stretch of no work from June to August that year.

She'd gone to visit Hogwarts at Minerva's behest, and had invited her partner to accompany her, but Malfoy had declined. They'd parted ways, she going to Scotland and he to parts he'd never divulged. When they'd met back up in late August, he'd walked into Bill's office for their next assignment with a light tan and a barely-there sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose. There had been uncharacteristic stiffness to his shoulders and a strain at the corner of his eyes and mouth ever since. She'd noticed it then, but thought it may have been because returning to work after a two-month holiday would stress anyone out. It certainly had her!

Nick the Second had stated that Malfoy and Rhachel had been involved before, and Draco had even confirmed as much earlier that evening in Hermione's room, but to unequivocally know that he'd had a _love affair_ that summer, after vowing never to get involved with another woman in such a way... Her heart bottomed out in her belly.

Rhachel was certainly beautiful, fun, and sweet. If anyone could have moved Draco towards giving up his re-acquired bachelorhood after his divorce from Astoria, it would have been Hermione's cousin, certainly. And yet, it hadn't lasted the summer. Why was that? Was it Rhachel's status as a Squib, or something else entirely that had brought him home to England?

Why had he come back to Greece now? Was it to pick-up where he and Rhachel had left off, taking it further, or was the woman simply a holiday fling for him?

"How did they meet?"

Her curiosity really was going to get her in trouble someday, she knew, but there was no preventing the words from popping out of her mouth.

"On a beach, much like this one, on a day I will forever regret." He looked down into the flames of the bonfire, reminiscing. "Nick had invited me, and I'd gone because I'd wanted to watch her. I am always watching her, but I've never had courage to tell her my feelings. From the day we first met, I've always teased her, and I've dated other women to make her jealous. I thought if she saw how other women looked at me, I could get her to look at me as a man, too, and not as Nick's friend. All those women only made her dislike me, instead. Then _he_ came to Greece two years ago. They met on the beach, while I was playing with some other woman. I lost her to him because I was a fool."

Hermione felt the tug of compassion. “Why didn’t you approach her after he left? It’s been two years, hasn’t it?”

He brushed a hand through his short, golden curls and sighed. “I was false and treated her badly. No, I do not deserve her.” His head hung loose on his neck. “I have never deserved her.”

“I’m sorry that things are so complicated,” she offered, “but I don’t agree. I think you’re a good man, and Rhachel would be lucky to have you.”

“How do you know this? You’ve only known me for a few days,” he reminded her with a smile, tossing her words back at her.

She gave him a teasing grin. “Because I’m an _excellent_ judge of character.”

They shared a good chuckle at that boast.

“So, tell me more about your infatuation with Draco Malfoy,” he prompted, nudging her with his elbow.

“For that story, I think we're going to require large quantities of alcohol,” she joked. 


	7. Confessions Are Good For The Soul

Deciding it best to discuss her feelings for Malfoy away from the others, Hermione coerced Apollodorus into taking a walk in the opposite direction down the beach from where her cousin and her lover had gone.

Hands in her coat pockets, she waited until they were out of immediate hearing range and then began her tale. Of course, she carefully manoeuvered around anything having to do with the magical world, keeping it at them having an antagonistic relationship while both attending a co-ed boarding school in England for the entirety of their teenage years, how he’d been a horrid bully and prejudiced git. She then skipped to the first time she’d interacted with him as an adult, glazing over the war, the trials after, and the recovery of the wizarding world – including her dealings with PTSD. She did mention having been involved with Ron on and off in between, however.

“Why did you not stay with this Ronald?” Apollodorus asked in genuine curiosity.

Hermione gave him a wry expression. “It’s more like Ronald couldn’t stay with me. He wasn’t the faithful type, it turned out.”

He wrapped an arm around her, offering her friendly support. “I am sorry that you were hurt.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“But it has stayed with you, yes?” he asked. “Your reason for hesitating with Draco Malfoy is because you see similarities to the past with this other man who hurt you. It is why you do not tell him your feelings now.”

Her steps faltered, stopped. Her eyes burned as the truth hit her hard.

She blinked, and turned from Apollodorus, looking out over the dark, wide ocean, uncomfortable letting him see her weakness, even as she spoke it aloud for the first time.

“You’re right,” she admitted, “I do see a lot of what Draco's doing with all those other women as similar to Ron’s callous and hurtful behaviour. That's why, I think, I've spent the last four years focussed on our working partnership - to convince myself that as long as Malfoy and I never crossed _that_ line, I could maintain a level of professionalism and couldn't be truly hurt. At least, I wouldn't be left as devastated as I'd been by Ron's infidelity." She bitterly laughed. "I was just fooling myself, though, wasn't I? Because it _did_ hurt, listening to him in hotel rooms next door, going at it with various women at all hours of the night."

The tears began flowing now, and she bowed her head, embarrassed by them.

"Even if Draco and I were to get together, though," she continued, "there would be absolutely no possibility for anything more meaningful. He told me this one time that he would never get remarried so, really, the best I could hope for would be a series of one-offs with him. And I... I couldn't accept that. I couldn't accept being like all the other women in his life: nothing more than a temporary convenience. I want to be his partner, in _every_ way, long-term. Forever.”

She wiped at the tears on her cheeks, frustrated by her inability to keep them at bay, broken-hearted by the truth of her predicament.

“But that's an impossible wish. First of all, he's seeing Rhachel. I have no idea if he's serious about breaking his own rules to be with her, but I don't want to hurt my cousin by getting in the way, regardless. I adore her and want her happy. If that means she ends up with Malfoy, then I'll stand aside and say nothing. Secondly, it would ruin everything between us if he did find out the truth, because I know he doesn't return my feelings. In fact, it would probably become too awkward to continue working with me in that case. He'd most likely request we dissolve our partnership, and I-” She choked on a sob, as the pain in her chest magnified. “I couldn’t bear that,” she whispered, agonized by the thought. “You understand? Even if I can't have him as I want, I couldn’t bear not being near him at all. It’s the same for you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

Every muscle in Hermione's body went stiff as she heard the words and recognised the voice.

"Oh!" was all she managed to squeak out as Draco’s arms came around her a second later, and he pulled her into the cradle of his warm body.

“Merlin's rod, Granger, why do you think I followed you here?” he murmured in her ear, letting his chilled lips ghost over her sensitive skin. “You’re in me, and I can’t let you go, no matter how much I try. I can’t… let you go.”

Hermione's mind seemed caught in an endless whirl as she attempted to process Malfoy's confession. "But... I mean... Rhachel..."

"Knows how I feel about you," he admitted. "She's known since that summer two years ago when she and I became involved the first time."

_Wait, what?_

"I... I don't understand," she admitted. "You liked me, but you dated her?"

Malfoy took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. "Your annoyingly frank ways have rubbed off on me, it seems, because I'm about to tell you something that may knock your socks off, Granger. Ready?" He swallowed, hard, and then opened his mouth, completely changing everything between them in one fell swoop. "I've been completely captivated by you since that day I stood in Bill Weasley's office and he pronounced we'd be permanent partners. I took one look at you in your plain, tight white blouse, your grey dress trousers, and your sensible black heels, with your hair up in a French twist, and was instantly smitten. You were classically simple and yet stunning to behold, and I was completely unprepared to feel such a startling, unexpected thing for you." He chuckled. "It was clear you despised me and the idea of partnering with me, too. Needless to say, your rejection put me off."

"I recall," she stated, wiping at her cheeks to remove the dampness. "You slammed the door on your way out." She sniffed, hating how nasally she sounded. A cry always left her worse for wear. "So, you like me, then?"

He snorted. "I think we're well past the 'like' stage."

"Straight on to 'arse-over-kettle' for me, then?" she teased, feeling the hope in her chest bloom into brilliant life... only to be crushed under heel by her next thought. "No, no, no. This is completely inappropriate, Draco. You're dating _my cousin._ "

His sigh was deep and long. "We're not, I assure you. It was all a ruse. When you mentioned going to Greece to look for a prospective husband, I panicked. I couldn't let your mum's plans in that regard work out. I figured Rhachel would be involved somehow, since you mentioned your cousins were in on it, too, so I Floo’d to the Greek Ministry, performed a _Point Me_ on my ex, and met her at the club that night you were there. When you left, I explained the situation to her. We... she and I concocted a scheme."

"A scheme?"

Hermione's disapproving tone gave fair warning to Draco that he was fast entering zone where her temper met its end. Scheming was right out when it came to men and relationships, as far as she was concerned. Ron had instilled that lesson in her well.

To his credit, Draco picked up on how precarious his position now was, and fidgeted with the appropriate amount of nervousness. "One worthy of a Slytherin," he sheepishly admitted, reminding her of his innate nature at the same time as attempting to use it as a solid defence.

Suddenly, things she'd been seeing and hearing all week, especially since Apollodorus came into the picture, clicked into place. She whirled around in his arms and met his eye, refusing to let him ferret his way out of this one with his clever tongue and evasive manoeuvering in conversation. "You and Rhachel pretended to hook-up just to get me jealous, didn't you?”

He cleared his throat and looked profoundly guilty when he admitted, “Both you and Apollodorus, when Nick brought him into it.”

Hermione’s eyes widened with understanding. “You mean Rhachel loves my date?”

Draco scowled at the emphasis she put on Apollodorus’ status. “Something like that, yes.”

“But, I thought…” She glanced over towards the bonfire, but her eyes were drawn to just beyond that, where Apollodorus was in deep discussion with Rhachel away from the others.

“Oh.”

Well, it would certainly be nice if the two of them were to finally get their act together.

Her irritation with Malfoy remained unabated, however, just because someone else seemed on the verge of fixing their problems. No way was she letting him get away with not explaining himself fully to her.

"Why did you keep your feelings a secret for so long?"

Draco sighed, and ran a nervous hand through his bangs, sweeping them out of his eyes. "Actually, I thought I've been rather obvious about how I've felt for you from the get-go. I've been trying to get in your knickers for the last four years, Granger."

She rolled her eyes. "Me and every other female on the planet."

Now he was becoming indignant. "You didn't seem the least bit interested. You shot me down every chance I gave you, purposefully keeping it professional between us. It allowed for a hell of a partnership to grow, but it created a lot of unnecessary cold showers on my end."

"Not as many as all that," she archly reminded him.

"Besides," he continued, ignoring her verbal jab, "I figured you weren't interested, especially after everything that went down with Weasley. And you had your share of one-offs, as I recall."

She threw her hands up into the air. "Five in four years, Malfoy," she pointed out. "You're on what, your second dozen by now?"

"And every single one of them was a short brunette with curly hair and brown eyes. Ever wonder why that was?"

That stopped her cold and she thought back, trying to picture his partners...

Yes, all short brunettes with curly hair and dark eyes. Even Rhachel.

As if reading her thoughts, Draco explained, "That lean summer where there was no work, I knew that I was getting close to jeopardizing our partnership. I wanted you, but you... you gave me no indication that you were interested in the same. When the boss said we were off, it couldn't have come at a more convenient time. When you invited me to Hogwarts with you, I almost agreed, but rationality prevailed. I knew I couldn't risk being in such close quarters with you or risk losing you as a partner, so I turned you down and came here instead. I met Rhachel. She looks... hell, you two could pass for siblings, you know."

Hermione became indignant on her cousin's behalf. "Are you saying that you used her as a substitute for me? That's... that's low even for you, Malfoy!"

He grabbed her arms and shook her once. "Stop it! You make it sound tawdry. It wasn't at all like that. It was complete coincidence that she and I met and hooked-up, but once I discovered her relation to you I tried to do the right thing and step away. Rhachel wouldn't hear of it. She insisted that it was okay. She was looking for a summer fling to get over someone, no strings attached, and I'd wanted to try to get over _you_. Neither one of us was officially seeing other people at the time, so we indulged in some harmless fantasies. When I realised that being with her was getting me nowhere, and that I wasn't getting over you, we called it quits, but stayed friends." His grip on her arms tightened. "Do you know how guilty I felt thinking of you whenever we-"

Hermione held up her hand to stop him before he twisted the knife further into her chest. She didn't want to envision him having sex with Rhachel, period.

"So you ended it and came back to England that August, right in time for work to start up again. I get it," she finished for him, going with the truncated version for sanity's sake.

"No, you don't," he insisted, pulling her into him. "I only knew for _certain_ that I was in love with you that summer, when it became abundantly clear that I was trying to replace you. My whole world upended once I'd admitted that to myself, but then all I could see were the obstacles: the horrors of our past, our working partnership's possible dissolution, and the negative opinions of your friends, my family, and our whole _bloody_ world once the gossip began. And let us not forget the fact that you hated my everlasting guts outside of our work anyway."

She frowned. "That isn't true at all. I didn't hate you that first day Bill partnered us up, or any day after that. All I could see were the obstacles between us, too. _That's_ what I hated - and all of those women, of course."

"And you think I didn't hate that you suddenly began sleeping with other men just after I'd had my startling revelation about us?" Draco asked. "I thought for sure you were giving me a more overt signal to move on and to stop flirting with you. I was already irrationally angry at you for making me fall in love after I'd vowed never again post-Hurricane Astoria, but then to stand by and watch as you bed complete strangers after turning me down over and over again... I was furious and mad with jealousy. So, I upped the ante, and hoped that one of those women would make me forget about you. At the same time, I was hoping that maybe, _just maybe_ you'd really start to notice what you'd passed over, and reconsider. Clearly, none of that worked."

“You're saying you slept with all of those women to try to make me jealous,” she stated, frowning. “What kind of idiotic plan was that?”

His response was quick and heartfelt.

“The kind only a very desperate man would attempt.”

That floored her.

“Desperate? You?”

He shrugged.

She snorted in anger. “You’re the least desperate person on the planet when it comes to companionship, Draco Malfoy. Women throw their knickers at you.”

His smile teased to life again, his mood shifting as understanding began to settle between them. “Not the one woman I want, though. Her knickers are always firmly set in place whenever I attempt to get them off her - most especially when she’s exhausted after tangling with Hades’ Ferryman.” His expression altered once more, becoming gravelly serious. “Granger, it’s important that you know nothing happened between Rhachel and me on this trip. We just gave the illusion we were back together in the hopes it would force you to conspire to split us up.” He shook his head. “I should have known that you were too bloody nice to stoop to such underhanded tactics, especially as it pertains to someone you've already given your loyalty to."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at that. “You’ve known me for half my life and you’re just now clueing into that fact?”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Well, you do have another side altogether that can be rather vindictive when it wants to be."

"I do not-"

"I seem to recall hearing a rumour that you’d conjured canaries back in sixth year for the express purpose of getting even with the Weasel,” he pointed out. “And then there was all that loud television and banging around in conjoined hotel rooms in the early mornings over the last few years…”

Hermione crossed her arms and met his accusation head-on, refusing to feel guilty for getting even with the git. “Both times were done in the name of justice. Ron betrayed me with that floozy, Brown. The git had it coming. And if you hadn’t been _banging around_ at nights, you’d be awake in the mornings at an appropriate time anyway. I can’t help it if my daily calisthenics routine wakes up you and your” -she made a face to express her displeasure- “companions. I have to stay in shape for what we do, don’t I? You can’t expect me to skip such important exercise, _especially_ after you’d already had yours the night before.”

He gave her a long, disbelieving stare and an amused grin that had her tilting her chin higher.

In a quick move, he had her in his arms again and was chuckling. “I’m mad for you, Hermione Granger. No other witch in the world can drive me as spare or make me want so much."

"What about our partnership?"

She was afraid of things changing now that they'd both confessed. Honestly, she had no intention of seeking another co-worker, but she wasn't sure of Draco's take on the situation. He'd been willing to run all the way to Greece the first time to get away from the possibility of them splitting up, and she'd done the same two years later. That told her that they were both afraid of the same thing: losing the other.

His smile gentled, and his gaze filled with soft heat. "I was hoping you'd consider making it a more intimately binding one. That way, you'd never have to worry about taking on the likes of Charon alone."

"And you would make sure I've properly showered after every mission, I suppose?" she teased.

"Thoroughly."

"I think I'd enjoy that very much."

"I'd assure you would."

She glanced over at Rhachel and Apollodorus, who were just then disappearing around that bend in the beach that she and Malfoy had gone earlier (to conspire, no doubt). "I think we've been dumped."

"Ah, well, whatever will we do to get through the grieving process?" Draco teased.

Hermione tossed him a lusty grin. "I'm sure I can think of a few things. Do you still have that oar?"

Their first kiss was interrupted by uncontrollable chuckles.


	8. You Spin Me Right 'Round

**_20 June, 2010 (Sunday)_ **

****

Hermione awoke from a pleasant dream to the feeling of a soft, wet mouth worshipping between her legs.

She came wide awake as Draco's tongue teased her body out of its slumber, rejuvenating its need. Within a matter of moments, she was dizzy and heated from his expert attentions, widening her legs and arching her hips. She ran her fingers through his silky, champagne hair and breathed his name on a sigh of pleasure.

The night before had been incredible. He'd taken her back to his family's resort home here in Greece, and brought her to his bed. There, he'd taught her things she'd never known about the art of love-making. He'd sunk into her so deeply and so thoroughly, over and over again, joining their bodies, uniting their hearts, and moving her soul that she'd begun to think of them as one entity, rather than two.

The night before, they'd become partners in every way, just as she'd hoped.

When her orgasm this time rolled through her, sweeping her up and pulling her under, it took her long minutes to resurface. By then, Draco was fully seated within her and moving, demonstrating his strength and endurance once again, and imprinting his scent and touch upon her. As he filled her with his seed at last, he whispered his tender feelings into her ear and held her tight.

It took them another two hours to get out of bed, bathe, and dress - mostly because Draco had insisted Hermione be "properly washed from head to toe". It took him a false start (and another round of hot, wet sex) before he was satisfied that he'd accomplished his goal.

Around lunchtime, they'd agreed to return to her Aunt's house to find out what had happened to their 'dates' and to confirm the rumours that had no doubt gone around last night between the Nicks, Nicki, Anita, and Diane.

Walking into the main dining area, Hermione was astounded to find that not only were Rhachel and Apollodorus there, holding hands and grinning like fool lovers with a secret, but that the entire house was in an uproar, every cousin moving here and there between rooms, carrying boxes of what appeared to be decorations and arms full of canvas sacks filled with groceries. Tulle was strewn out all over flat surfaces, decorating tables like frilly tutus.

To her utter surprise, Hermione's mum was there as well, apparently having hopped on a Muggle airplane and taken the three and a half hour flight over to come to visit her sister. "Hermione, love!" the woman greeted Hermione, holding her cell in one hand and coming around the table to give her daughter a kiss on the cheek. "We've all been waiting for you to get here. Your Aunt called me early this morning with the news! We're all so thrilled." She glanced at Draco, taking him in with a critical eye. "Well, he's certainly not swarthy or Greek, but he is handsome and well-to-do, I'm told. Excellent." She handed Hermione her cell. "Your father's on the phone. Say hello."

She passed the phone off. Hermione, who took it with some confused reluctance. "Hullo, dad?"

"Ah, Hermione, excellent," her father stated in his typical greet. "I just wanted you to know I'll be flying in tomorrow. Must go into the office to finish up some things so they won't get in the way next week. Wouldn't miss the ceremony for the world, my girl! Can't wait to give you away!"

_Wait, what?_

"Er, dad, what are you talking about?" she asked. "Give me away? Ceremony?"

"For your wedding, darling," her father calmly stated. "Your mother tells me it's next Saturday. You and your cousin Rhachel will be married in a double-booking. She's finally marrying that Apollo fellow, it seems, and you've hitched yourself to a smart one, I'm told." He cleared his throat. "I'll admit it was a bit of a shock to be the last ones to know. Out of the blue, really. But, one must roll with the punches, eh? Your mother and I were an almost-elopement as well, until your Aunt Eumelia caught on. As they say, you can't fool a Greek when love is on the line, yes? Always in the mood for a party, they are, and they can sniff out a romance in the making every time. Even prod it along, if you take my meaning - calling managers, arranging for holidays, setting up challenges, creating drama. That sort of sport. Certainly worked on your mother and me."

Hermione's mind whirled at his implication.

"Oh. My. God."

"Now, darling, make sure to tell mother my flight arrives tomorrow night at Athens International," her father continued, completely oblivious to her sudden inner turmoil. "Half-past eight. British Air. Can't wait to meet your fiancé. Well, goodbye then."

He hung up.

With numb fingers, Hermione handed the phone over to her mother, who was currently badgering Draco about waist sash colours.

"I think yellow would be lovely, don't you, 'Melia?" her mother asked her Aunt, as the two of them held up swatches of fabric next to Malfoy's face.

"Oh, no. Makes him sallow, the poor dear," her Aunt replied in lightly-accented English. She flipped through the book, and held a different colour up against his cheek. "Ah, now blue. That's a perfect colour for his complexion."

"I think red better," Rhachel interjected, coming up alongside. She flipped through the book, found a nice crimson red and put it against Draco's face, then Apollodorus', then Hermione's, and finally her own. "Yes, red good for all."

Draco stared at them all like they were as daft as a brush, and then his gaze landed on her.

"It appears one time at the altar _wasn't_ enough for me."

"Seems so," Hermione replied.

"You're a first time bride. You don't mind it happening like this?"

She shrugged. "Might as well. They'll just badger us until we do it their way anyway, you know that."

A naughty glint entered Draco's eye then. "Alright, but I have one, small condition. If I'm to wear Gryffindor red, you're to wear Slytherin green."

Hermione frowned and put her hands on her hips, staring him down.

"You want me to do _what?"_

**_~FIN~_ **


End file.
